


The (British) Westerner

by mcrx21phandoms



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Ballet Dancer Sherlock Holmes, Child Abandonment, Childhood, Drugs, Eating Disorders, Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Posh boy, Song Lyrics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-10
Updated: 2018-10-25
Packaged: 2019-07-29 08:31:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 1,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16260512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mcrx21phandoms/pseuds/mcrx21phandoms
Summary: A song fic between 'The Westerner' and Sherlock. I think the song fits him well, but I did alter a few facts to my preference. Lyrics for each chapter will be in the notes before the chapter.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I was born one morning in December  
> On the coldest day

Dec 13th 1991  
It was late at night, eleven pm, in the Holmes manner. An expecting Violet Homles and her husband were sound asleep in the master bedroom. Mycroft, their only child soon to be their eldest, was asleep as well. The seven year old was mature for his age, and knew that his mother would have a child any day now. He wanted to have a little brother to teach how to make deductions and be smart, rather than the mindless drool Mummy and Father would insist upon him. Violet woke the household up due to her shouting. She was in labor. Mycroft watched his father grab a duffle bag and take it and his mother to the family car, beckoning for Mycroft to come along. It was very cold outside, and if he were one for superstition, he'd blame it on being Friday the thirteenth. Regardless, he regretted only wearing his coat over his plain pajamas. Mummy even let him pick his baby brother's second name beforehand. It was a long process, six hours to be exact, but William Sherlock Scott Holmes was born. He was very small and had bright blond hair with icy blue eyes. Mycroft adored him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Abandoned by my mother  
> By my father I was raised  
> My father raised my brother and I  
> With a stubborn heart.

Violet Holmes was always an eccentric woman. However, it was a shock when she left her husband and children with just a note stating she needed to find herself and she doesn't know when or if she'll be back. "Myc? Where's Mummy?" The now five year old Sherlock frequently asked. "She's gone, Sherlock." Mycroft always replies with a sigh. Mummy Holmes had left less than a year ago, but Mycroft already knew she wasn't coming back. Their father was practically non existent at home, but frequented the local pub. 'At least Sherlock will be raised to be intelligent.' Sherlock was a rebellious child, always experimenting, climbing, and had a lot of energy. Mycroft knew he would hate school, but the law is the law. Sherlock later sobbed to Mycroft that he was just trying to make friends with the boy and didn't know why he was so upset at what he deduced. Sherlock came to the conclusion the boy was stupid. "Don't bother making friends with idiots. Caring is not an advantage, Sherlock." Mycroft would later regret telling Sherlock that at his young age.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My mother left me her good looks and confident charm  
> Well I spent most of my teenage years  
> Searching for her love  
> I could not find it anywhere

Sherlock was going into high school at fourteen. Mycroft would be leaving for this year's uni soon, but he was always with his baby brother for holidays. Sherlock looked in the mirror at his school uniform, he had recently had a growth spurt there for his father (aka Mycroft with his father's money) had to buy him a new uniform. His cheek bones were sharp, his stomach was concave and he was now 167 cm and still growing. Sherlock's now deep brunette curls sat wildly on top of his head, and his eyes were now more cold and icy than ever, like he could freeze you with just a look. He was a little underweight at ninety pounds. Sherlock was a little to aware of himself for his own good, he wanted to be eighty pounds. The perfect ballet weight. He thought since everyone loves a show, and everyone loves the other dancers, someone might love him.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I turned to drugs  
> And after all the smoke had cleared  
> And it was said and done  
> I found myself addicted by the age of twenty one

In high school, he did nothing he did not love. He would die for The Work, and for ballet. Sherlock found he focused better with an empty stomach, and nicotine soon became meal replacements. He wasn't close to anyone, so no one remarked when he arrived at school with a shinner that could put professional boxers to shame. 'It was for the best' his -bullies- classmates, brother, father defended when asked what did Sherlock do to deserve boarding school. ' _Queer, fag, disgrace, fat, weirdo, freak, freak,_ _ **freak!**_ ' rang through his head as he dragged his luggage onto the train. In spite of himself, he glaced on the window to the train station. Every boy, girl, child was seen off by someone. Everyone but Sherlock, anyway. He smoked twice what he usually would on that ride.  
Victor Trevor and Sherlock Holmes were inseparable. One was rarely seen without the other, even when Victor insisted to going to the student cafeteria. ( _"Why can't I stay in the dorm?" Sherlock did -not- whine. "Because," Victor replied smoothly "I like showing you off and I won't have the attention you need if I don't eat first." Sherlock -never- pouted, "You make me sound like a cat.")_ Or when Sherlock insisted on getting high at four am. ( _"Waas wakin' me up necesssary?" Victor slurred, half asleep. "Yes," replied Sherlock from atop Victor's stomach, "I want your company." Victor let out a rich laugh before pushing him onto the bed, "And the real reason?" "Our dealer's cross with me after I offered to suck his dick for a better price." "That's better than I expected. Fine, I'll get it for you." Victor was met with a wave of a hand from a bundle of his blankets. "Posh git." He muttered.)_


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tell the truth  
> I've been beaten  
> I've been bruised  
> I was left for dead as well  
> I was wrongfully accused  
> You left me locked inside a cell

"Tell me the story of Carl Powers." Victor told Sherlock late one night. He sighed, "Once upon a time, the police were daft idiots,,,"   
_A young boy with ebony curls and porcelain skin stood just outside the crime scene, he would have to find a way in to investigate. Something about the crime just didn't seem right. He could slip past the guards, with just the right amount of pity. A disgusting emotion, but useful at times. The boy put on his best innocent face and walked straight up to the guards, "What's happened?" He asked curiosity. When told, he switched on the waterworks. "B, B, But Carl was m, m, my best fr, fr, friend", he sobbed, tugging the guards' heartstrings as he lied. "Do, do you think I co, could get some of, of his th, things?" The guards exchanged glaces, he was just a child that lost his friend, and the death was ruled accidental, so what's the harm? The boy slipped under the rope after a tearful thank you and decuded what he could of the crime scene,_ _ **That one will be promoted soon, She is cheating on her husband, Carl had ocd, He is in the process of divorce, Carl's shoes are missing-**_ _Wait. Would a boy with ocd walk barefoot? No. So where are the shoes?  The young boy asked a younger detective working the scene "'scuse me?" he put on an air of innocence, "where are Carl's shoes?" The cop,_ _ **hardworking, new marriage, kind, ready to be a father**_ _, bent down to the boy's eye level. "There weren't any shoes, lad." The stubborn child cried out "There must have been!" The man rasied an eyebrow "How would you know?" he sounded curious rather than condensing. "Carl could have forgotten them"  The boy agured more with the cop before being forced to_ _go to the station and sit in a cell until his father -Mycroft_ _\- could pick him up._   
"Was the case ever sloved?" Victor asked as he always did. "No," Sherlock always replied, "it was ruled accidental."


End file.
